********
“The stars----”
The words carried over from dream to reality in a desperate struggle to be remembered. Golden lashes parted to expose their clear blue to the afternoon light.
Her body was lovingly cradled within the softness of a plush bed. She felt the luxurious silk lightly veiling her body. Deeply, she drew in a breath. Her abdomen expanded but stopped beneath a weight. She frowned in fearful confusion.
Aurea lowered her hand to her stomach. Her hand fell directly into the softest silk she had ever felt. It wove possessively around her fingers as thick tresses of rich brown. Each wave sent one of equal might rippling throughout the Queen's being. Carefully, she pushed up, supporting her weight onto her elbows. She maneuvered until she could clearly see the woman sleeping contentedly atop her abdomen. The manner in which an arm had been draped over her hips laid out the scenario for the young Queen.
Autumn had kept vigil over her until the last of her will had been spent and she was forced to surrender to sleep.
The sleeping woman demonstrated such peace. Her olive skin glowed in the pale morning light. Beneath its ethereal rays, she radiated like a vision.
The warm nuances of her hair flirted with the light. Airy and soft as newly brushed fleece, thick waves became an inviting bed to Aurea's hand. She watched as a lock of hair was embraced. It was drawn close then rejected as it was pushed away with each breath to escape the sleeping woman.
Aurea used only the sheer softness of her fingertips to compel a satiny lock from Autumn's romantic features. That simple act had seemed to mirror a hand drawing back a curtain. So much of Autumn's perfection was now exposed to her greedy young eyes.
Azure flames fell with gentle heat upon the supple lips stilled by dreams. Aurea lazily took in their shapeliness. Her eyes painstakingly traced the line of the woman's nose. Her eyes then ventured steadily lower to a jaw of strength and nobility. She smiled, seeing a bit of Angelos shining through in his beautiful daughter.
Thoughts of Angelos III caused her body to tense. What must the nobles think of her? She had collapsed during her first night as their ruler.
She was called away from her own self-loathing by the sound of a deep inhale. It would not be long before Autumn woke. Even now, the woman's lashes fluttered as if battling against the sleep which had conquered her. She smiled softly. Her protecting angel.
A frown knit Aurea's brows. Released from the haze of a spell, the Queen noticed Autumn's wings for the first time. They were mere ghosts of what they had been. Their graceful length had been plucked and robbed of their former beauty.
Aurea's scoured the room before at last she found the petals' new home.
A pot of herbs mixed with an abundance of Djidjiga petals had created the intoxicating scent to fill the air with such potent healing properties. The Queen memorized the various herbs lining the nearby table knowing that all those things combined had granted her solace. As she found herself growing stronger by the fragrant moment, she was struck by understanding. She sighed.
With her wings broken, Autumn endeared herself all the more to the young sovereign. If it were possible, Autumn had become more beautiful in her fragility. She was a fallen angel.
Whimpering quietly, she drew in a slow deep breath. Autumn stretched. She blushed then smiled sleepily as she found eyes watching over her. She tensed suddenly realizing over whom she had been laying. Respectfully, she immediately sat up. As she rose, she murmured her profound apologizes for having lain against her ruler.
Aurea could only shake her head, silently insisting that there was no need for apologies.
Together, they surrendered to a great stillness. That silence grew to a violent swell. When at last Aurea found her voice, it was a quiet thing. “You stayed,” she said.
Autumn nodded slowly.
“Why?”
Another silence filled the room. This one's life lasted far longer than its predecessor.
Autumn extended her hand. It loomed so painfully close to Aurea's that the heat of it was all but unbearable. Then timidly the distance between them was closed. Her hand came to lightly rest upon Aurea's while the Queen stared with a trembling breath to their joined hands.
Chapter Four
The stars cast their beautiful spell upon a devoted world. We are all too willing to surrender ourselves to their might, but when light falls upon us, ridding us of the night's power, we are forced to awaken. What true nature of ourselves do we awaken to?
----Book of Wrath
*********
A great caravan was met with adoring eyes as it came to travel the Great Road. The royal guard riding with such prestige along the slow-moving beast reminded those of the true treasure found within the procession. Queen Aurea was touring her lands, endearing herself to her people with each noble house she visited, but it was clear that something preoccupied her mind. She glanced toward the mountains at her back as her thoughts travelled far from her surroundings. She was confident that the team she had assembled to watch over her caravan could safely tend to what her mind could not. After all, the Shadow Reign nobles had vowed their swords, their very lives to ensuring her will be done. Could they not continue the quest, if her heart sought another more important journey?
Acting as the head of the slithering snake was the tightly-woven pack never far from the Queen's side.
Her horse ground to a halt as if to answer the question swirling inside her eyes.
The eldest of the Shadow Reign siblings was a passing mountain to the small children looking upward as his mount trotted by. In the early morning sun, his sandy hair glistened brightly. He cast them a kind smile.
With a turn of his head, his woolly dark blond hair slid over his wide shoulders. The lion who reigned from his round shield mirrored the quiet strength coming from the eldest sibling. He took comfort in the knowledge that he and his family were accompanying the Queen and that upon their successful return, they would bring honor to their Province.
“Donovan,” he heard voiced urgently.
Donovan turned to take in the sight of his youngest brother riding spiritedly from the rear. He frowned curiously. “What's wrong, Markus?” he asked.
Markus pulled back at the reins, commanding his mount to come to an abrupt stop. He met the worried eyes of his older brother. His young face was slender and filled with apprehension. As his thin shadow cast its long winding image across the earth, he embodied the snake across his shield. “It's Aurea,” he said. “She's stopped.”
With a raised motion of his hand, Donovan called the procession to stop. He and his siblings came as a thundering storm down the length of the Great Road.
Aurea sat proudly upon her warhorse.
Under the early morning sun, a mount of fantasies and lullabies paced with the same indecisiveness to plague his mistress. He was a glorious perfection of white. His long mane whipped in the winds like froth. The feathering at the end of his strong legs seemed birthed of morning fog.
He snorted loudly, his breath colliding with the air. The golden armor adorning his body rivaled only the strength of the body it protected, but it was the armor atop his head that gave him the illusion of myth. The golden horn shimmering beneath the sunlight was a wand to grant a solitary wish, but what Aurea wished for most eluded her.
The young Queen dressed in white was an image of beauty. She embodied strength but something in the morning light gave her the intangible softness of dreams.
Aurea wore the finest robes in the land, but she felt naked beneath the golden sky. Not even the red cape blazing just as brightly as her sapphire eyes could offer any true protection against the nakedness bearing her.
With a creak of leather, she gripped more fiercely to the reins. That small movement caused the golden gauntlets upon her delicate wrists to flicker in the sunlight.
Her horse danced, turning from one direction and then the next as if desperately attempting to find his way. Aurea was battling to regain control when her t
rusted guards rallied around her.
“My Lady, is something wrong?” Leigh asked. Her watchful eyes mirrored those of the falcon staring out from the realm of her shield. She reached out to take hold of the reins. Together, both she and the Queen were able to calm the spirited horse.
Aurea did not answer. She could only stare past the woman to the mountains bathed in brilliant yellow light.
A vision of Autumn rushed to the forefront of her mind. She remembered the sunlight soft against her skin months before. How could such a memory seem such a world away and yet feel so near to her heart?
Drawing in a deep breath, Aurea knew what she must do. She returned her eyes to the others, who waited expectantly for her command.
After a lengthy silence, she spoke in a soft voice. “From this day forth,” Aurea decreed regally, “you are my elite. Follow me.”
With pride and awe inside their eyes, they followed as Aurea swiftly led the way along the right flank of the caravan.
The Queen stopped near the elegant carriage housing a beautiful lady of the court.
An aristocratic hand pulled back the veil shielding her from the outside world. She peered outside the carriage window to her sovereign in gold. Her green eyes danced as emeralds in the night. “My Liege,” she greeted seductively.
With a noble incline of her head, Aurea greeted the beguiling woman in the carriage. “Lady Maven, I am appointing you as my emissary. You will continue on, touring the provinces in my stead.” She turned her head in the direction of her newly-appointed guard. “Donovan, Octavius and Leigh, you will enforce her word as if it were my own. Protect her as you would me. We will meet at the palace when your tour of the land is complete. Understood?”
The siblings bowed their heads obediently, honored by their appointment.
Maven leaned closer. As she did, her bounties threatened to spill from the carriage. The expression upon her face was easily read.
Aurea smiled with a patience she did not usually know. “False pretenses have never been our way, my beautiful Maven. We both know that this is what you have always wanted.”
Maven made no attempt to hide the erotic smile playing across her lips. She nodded in understanding then frowned curiously. “Where will you go, my Queen?” she asked.
The Queen had no time for questions. The flames of her desires were rising to consume her from the inside.
On the horizon of glowing gold and blinding white, a vision clouded the ruler's eyes. She glimpsed a golden angel with arms opened as if to welcome her to the waiting world of splendors and glory.
The angel's face was graceful radiance. Her beauty, Autumn's beauty, shined as brightly as the sun. The fiery incarnation of her hair flowed outward across the sky to claim the magnificent aurora as its own.
Aurea guided her horse in the direction of the mountains. She immediately pushed her steed into a powerful sprint. Above the winds, she gave a commanding cry. “Markus, Olivia, Galen, to me!”
The three siblings set off after her with such force that the ground trembled. As they did, their aura glowed brilliantly. They were knights with a cause, soldiers with a purpose.
********
Together the four charged toward the mountains looming in the distance with Aurea spearheading the way. They rode for the better part of two days only stopping for breaks when it was absolutely necessary.
On the second day, the hours morphed from one into another. With a blazing sun high overhead, it became more evident that the Queen rode as a demon. Her thoughts were possessed by something or someone urging her onward.
The night had all but conquered the land when they arrived to the outer-reaches of Angel Province. They stopped at the border, gazing down into the valley with awestruck eyes.
The province dazzled in every direction with all the might of fallen stars. As they rode closer, they marveled at the enormous pyres lit in celebration. The road leading into the heart of the province was lined with torches. Their light flickered hotly upon the armor of the riders.
Just as they had reached the limits of the enchanting city, a beautiful female warrior descended from the sky upon the back of a white owl. She sat motionless in a moment prolonged by eternity's approach.
Beneath the starlight, her torso attested to the grace of her clan. It was proud and beautiful, naked except for the white linen wrapped in horizontal embrace around her breasts, where it laced at her back. Each slow breath to cause her chest to rise and fall spoke louder than her silence. She was as controlled as every breath to leave her lips.
That control seemed all but contradicted by the white cloth affixed to her hips. Its alluring presence spoke of something wild and free. Still who would know? The splendors of her face were hidden behind a silver helmet. The mask of that helmet safely guarded the secrets of her expression. It ended just around her mouth, revealing shapely lips and a proud jaw.
Supple lips moved to speak. “Who goes there?”
Aurea closely studied the mask portraying omnipotent beauty. To her, it all seemed like a dream. Though she had never laid eyes upon this woman, this warrior of virtuous perfection, she felt that something in her embodied a truth Aurea had always known.
The Queen's head rose to greet the thing which inspired such a consuming feeling of predestination inside her. She straightened her shoulders proudly. “I am Aurea, Queen of Pyros,” she said. “With me, are my royal knights.”
The warrior's head turned as if to survey each of her possible opponents. When her study was complete, her mouth softened to give a warm smile.
“Welcome, Queen of Pyros,” she greeted graciously. “You have come to visit your people on a blessed night.”
“What night is that?” Olivia inquired gently. She was the youngest among her siblings, but there was something haunted inside her stormy blue eyes. It spoke of an age beyond her years. Her long hair spilled around her face in a shy protection. Still not even its thick tresses could mask the beauty of her face. Her unwavering agility, her poise and grace they were all as present inside of her as they were within the refined deer upon her shield.
She and the others were startled by the sudden power with which the owl outstretched its wings.
With a mighty clap of its titanic wings, the owl lifted into the sky. The captivating warrior upon its back smiled all the more. She motioned elegantly with her glistening silver trident. As her weapon pointed in a commanding flare, the mountainous gates which had once sealed off the city opened to reveal a near blinding light.
When at last the travelers' eyes had adjusted to the light, they witnessed a ceremony little known to outsiders.
Men walked in procession toward the center of the beautiful city. About their hips, blood red kilts hung with dreamy vividness. Their heads were bent forward beneath the weight of the large wicker baskets teeming with swollen grapes. Each grape glistened as a smoldering purple jewel in the torchlight.
With a mighty heft, the red grapes were dumped into a large vat. The dark wooden home to the grapes waited like an offering to the night.
Aurea urged her horse onward with a look of admiration donning her features. In every direction that she looked, her gaze fell upon the lustfully decadent appetites of the city. As her hungry eyes feasted on the women writhing to the music, she found herself wondering if somewhere among them her sweet Autumn was also lost in such abandon. The thought ignited her excitement and fueled her jealous rages in the very same instant.
Around the vat of grapes, several robust men firmly took possession of seductive hips. They hoisted the enticing women off the ground with a powerful jerk. For each unified pair, a woman emerged with a clay bowl to shower the women's feet. After having her feet lovingly bathed, the men placed the beauties into the collection of grapes much to the cheers of the city.
The women grasped a handful of their ebony skirts. They pulled them upward to reveal their knees and an aching glimpse of their thighs. Passionately, they began to dance, crushing the grapes beneath their fee
t. Under the night sky with fire's light warming their every nuance, their naked torsos seemed ethereal and majestic.
Aurea stood amidst a sea of others. She felt them crowding her horse in a desperate attempt at obtaining a better look. Her balance swayed violently. She cleaved to the saddle-horn. Inside her ears, her heartbeat thundered menacingly. She drew in a sharp intake of air. It did little good. That breath left her as suddenly as it had joined her.
The brilliant flames of her eyes burned more fiercely than any pyre within the city. Those flames focused in soft-blue flares upon the women coming seductively down the street. Namely the beautiful body she recognized all too easily as Autumn.
The women were many. They dressed in vibrant colors as bold and alluring as their people. Seven women were dressed in airy skirts of black and red which cleaved to their hips. They held silver swords which sparkled under the fires. Seven other women were dressed in mirroring skirts, but their shades were red and gold. In their hands they carried golden swords which bore a distinctive blade. Their weapons were easily recognized as swords from a nearby culture within the province.
With a passionate fury, silver and gold locked in the semblance of mortal combat. Their furious dance reflected one of the many civil wars to touch the Pyrosian lands.
Another group of seven came forward. Their bodies were free of clothes yet completely covered in various degrees of red. They were pressed so tightly together in a serpentine line that it was hard to tell where one sensuous body ended and the other began. They traveled closer, winding slowly around the battling warriors. The woman at the front wore a dragon mask so beautiful that it rivaled the one Aurea had worn at the masquerade ball. She acted as the powerful head to the mythical beast while it ominously stalked the women enthralled in conflict.
Aurea distinctly heard the music rising in intensity. She felt the drums zealously beating throughout her core. With a wavering breath, she watched the woman timidly making her way through the others.
The woman walked with a downcast head. Her hands were fretfully clasped together. Long waves of brown spilled softly around her face. Those tresses fell over the sinewy femininity of her back. Beneath the firelight, the luxury of olive skin was unabashed in its perfection. The glory of her naked body embodied the startling vulnerability of Angels' lost daughter. She was Djidjiga amidst a seemingly endless war. Her beauty was pure and awe-inspiring.
The Flame of Wrath Page 6